


The Moosefish

by spaceglass



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, a hunt for an ungodly and cute abomination, fishermen and scientists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceglass/pseuds/spaceglass
Summary: Harold Finch, a recluse scientist is searching for his newest escaped creation. He hires a boat off local fisherman John Reese to do just that. Meanwhile, Root, a crazed fan of his, has the same goal. She and her sailor Sameen Shaw set out to confront Finch and learn a lot more about each other than they bargained for along the way.





	The Moosefish

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, I can't wait to see where my brain goes with this. Enjoy chapter one.

The ship’s steel rails warm Shaw’s palms while she lazily rolls her head from side to side. God, she barely slept last night. Root insisted on mingling with people the night before, and like hell was Shaw going to let her do that alone. “I’m turning in early tonight. After you buy me dinner.” 

Root stood a few feet away, binoculars lowered slightly. “Love how you say that like it would be a problem for me.” A playful grin dances across her face. “Although, I don’t mind playing along.” 

The two hadn’t left the docks yet. The waiting game had only begun. Shaw supposed that’s what she got for working with an overachiever who did her best to look lazy and effortless. It had been two weeks in the same shitty town and she was beginning to grow restless. Every day here the rooms seemed to shrink smaller and the walls grow that much taller. To top it all off, this oddball scientist seemed to have no intention of leaving for at least two more days. 

“You really need to stop acting like I’m flirting with you.” Shaw spat into the water below and shifted on her heels. “I’m getting coffee.” Root didn’t have to say anything for Shaw to pick up a latte for her as well. 

Later, they sat on the deck together. Each kneeling on opposite sides of a shitty plastic table. Root sipped on her drink somewhat daintily, at least compared to Shaw. 

“I don’t think you’ve told me why you took the job yet.” Root’s habit of phrasing questions like sentences had yet to get under her skin. Quite the opposite, it was one of the few things about her that didn’t make her roll her eyes. She appreciated the lack of a demand for an answer. The ball seemed like it never left Shaw’s court. And that was just fine with her, even if surface level appearances could be deceiving.

“Mmhmm.” Truth was, it was a slow week. Root had an air of intrigue. Shaw wasn’t sure at the time if that was a good or bad thing. All she knew was Root smelled rather nice and seemed to know what she was talking about even if her head was twenty miles above the clouds. Refreshing not to be stuck with an old man who reeked of raw fish and had a disdain for the showers.... a man who would explain to her how to do her job. Shaw didn’t care that the creature Root was chasing didn’t exist. She got paid and that was that. 

There was a prolonged silence while Root finished up her drink. They stared off in different directions, Root at the sunset and Shaw at the horizon where the sky met the sea. Every so often she could feel the scientist’s eyes on her. She pretends not to notice. 

If it weren’t for Root’s melodramatic sigh, she might have stood up swiftly enough to surprise Shaw. She slipped a foil-wrapped grilled chicken sandwich into Shaw’s hand. “Sleep well.” 

 

A three hours drive away Harold Finch clutched the all too flimsy plastic handle that dangled above the car window. Reese’s driving made Harold thank the heavens the man wasn’t a cab driver, only to realize that once the two men hit the sea there would be no one else to save him. The hotel was only another half hour away. Thank god for disability or Harold would have to take life in this hurtling vehicle for much longer than he would desire. 

“I have to say, Mr. Finch… are you sure you’re ready for this?” Reese’s lips barely moved with that question. His cold gaze was still glued to the road. Now that was something Harold could be grateful for. The man’s voice wavered with something not quite sarcasm. Something lighter and more humorous. Whatever Reese’s tone was meant to be, it sure came out flat and rather clumsy.

“No need to question my abilities, Reese. Not exactly like I have a choice in the matter, you know.” He knew he had made the man well aware of their situation. The creature needed to be caught before it died. Or worse. Harold blinked harshly. No, he would not think about that right now. 

“Fair enough.” Was that a smirk Harold could see out of the corner of his eye? 

Almost certainly. 

Reese pulled into the lot and helped Harold with his suitcases. “I’ll be right next door if you chose to enlighten me on this moose.” Reese disappeared through the doorway before Harold could raise his hand in protest. A moose? Did that man even listen to a single word he said? 

Harold sat on the very edge of the bed with his head in his palms. Inhaling and exhaling until he could bring himself to leaf through Diane’s scrapbook. Printed forms with her height, weight, and behaviorisms were spliced by various pictures of the subject that he had grown so fond of. An odd looking thing he had come to call the Moosefish.


End file.
